Polgara the Sorceress. David Eddings

this all about, Kamion?’ a white-bearded old earl demanded when we all gathered in the stables. The earl’s name was Jarok, a fairly common Alorn name.

      ‘I want you all to see something, my Lord Jarok,’ Kamion replied.

      ‘What are we supposed to look at?’ Jarok was obviously not happy. He was an old man with a young wife, and he’d had other plans for the evening, I guess.

      ‘I’m not at liberty to discuss it, my Lord,’ Kamion told him. ‘All you and the others need to know is that you’re going to witness a crime being committed this evening. The criminals will be taken into custody and they’ll be tried later for their crime. You gentlemen will perform your civic duty and testify at that trial.’

      ‘Belar’s teeth, Kamion!’ the grouchy old Jarok swore, ‘just hang the rogues and have done with it.’

      ‘We aren’t talking about a simple burglary or an incidental murder, my Lord. This is a wide-ranging conspiracy that threatens the security of the throne and the entire kingdom. We want to stamp it out, so we’ll need an iron-clad case to take before the Prince Regent.’

      That bad?’ Jarok blinked. ‘It’s really bad enough to take before Daran himself instead of a magistrate?’

      ‘Probably even worse, my Lord. If possible, I’d take the matter to Riva himself.’

      ‘What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go!’

      I love the way Alorns can change direction in the blink of an eye, don’t you?

      The ride up the gorge which adjoined the one where the Cult was meeting wasn’t very pleasant. The moon and stars were out, but the woods were absolutely soaked by the day’s rain, and we were all wet to the skin by the time we reached the narrow pass that connected the two deep valleys. Things got worse at that point. We all dismounted and started wading up the hill through the sodden undergrowth.

      The Cultists’ bonfire down at the bottom of the gorge was clearly visible when we reached the crest, but it became less so as we crept down through the trees.

      ‘I haven’t had this much fun in years, Pol,’ Anrak whispered to me as we struggled down the steep hill.

      ‘Did you plan to ever grow up, Anrak?’ I asked him rather tartly as I tried to unsnag the hem of my dress from a thorny bush.

      ‘Not if I can help it, dear Lady.’ His grin was infectious, and I had to stifle a laugh.

      The clearing which surrounded the Cult’s bonfire was quite large. ‘Spread out, gentlemen,’ Kamion’s instructions were passed around in whispers. ‘Let’s try to see everything that happens out there.’ The nobles and merchants and craftsmen comprising our group of witnesses obediently fanned out, moving as silently as possible and all crouched low to avoid being seen. Then we all sank down onto the wet ground to watch.

      Elthek had not yet put in an appearance, and the Cultists, all dressed in bearskins, were gathered about the fire drinking strong ale and singing – badly – old Alorn folk-songs. One of the soldiers Kamion had out in the woods came crawling up to join us. He was a stocky man with a no-nonsense kind of face. ‘What are your orders, Lord Brand?’ he whispered.

      ‘Tell your men to stay out of sight, Sergeant,’ Kamion instructed. ‘Did those people around the fire leave any sentries out there in the forest?’

      ‘No, my Lord Warder. As soon as the first ale-barrel was broached, they all came in out of the woods.’ The soldier coughed in a slightly embarrassed way. ‘Ah – Lord Brand?’

      ‘Yes, Sergeant?’

      ‘I know it isn’t proper for me to take any kind of action without orders, but something came up, and I had to deal with it on my own.’

      ‘Oh?’

      ‘When those people around the fire started coming up the gorge, it was fairly obvious that they were members of the Bear-Cult. Some of my men have sympathies in that direction, so I had to take steps. Nobody got hurt,’ he added hastily, ‘at least not too badly. I’ve got those men chained to trees a couple of miles up the gorge, and their mouths are stuffed full of old boot socks to keep them from shouting out warnings. Is it all right that I did that, my Lord?’

      ‘Perfectly all right, Captain.’

      ‘Ah – I’m only a sergeant, my Lord.’

      ‘Not any more, you aren’t. What’s your name, Captain?’

      ‘Torgun, my Lord.’

      ‘All right then, Captain Torgun. Go back to your men and spread them out so that you’ve got every possible escape route covered.’ Kamion lifted a curved hunting horn. ‘When you hear me blow on this, order your men to charge. I want everyone wearing a bear-skin clapped in chains.’

      ‘They’ll probably try to fight, my Lord. Do I have permission to use force?’

      ‘Do whatever it takes, Captain Torgun.’

      The newly promoted soldier’s answering grin was one of the most evil I’ve ever seen. ‘Try not to kill too many of them, Captain,’ I added – just as a precaution, you understand.

      The look of innocence he gave me was so transparent that I almost burst out laughing. ‘Of course not, Lady Polgara. I wouldn’t dream of it.’ Then he slithered away.

      ‘Good move there, Kamion,’ Earl Jarok whispered hoarsely. ‘Field promotions are one of the best ways to get good officers. That fellow would follow you into fire right now.’

      ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, my Lord. Being wet’s bad enough.’

      The party around the bonfire was getting rowdier as the ale flowed freely. The Cultists were all shuffling around the fire, tankards in hand, trying to imitate the shambling walk of their totem. Then Elthek came up the gorge and trailing along behind him were most of the priests of Belar on the Isle of the Winds.

      ‘We’re going to decimate the priesthood, I’m afraid,’ Kamion whispered to Anrak and me.

      ‘It won’t be hard to find replacements, Kamion,’ Anrak assured him. The priestly life’s fairly comfortable, and it doesn’t involve much sweating.’

      Then Elthek addressed the shaggy congregation for an hour or so, punctuating his oration with simple tricks of ‘magic’. The flames in the bonfire changed colors several times as the Deacon’s underlings surreptitiously tossed assorted powders into the coals. A ‘ghost’, which was no more than a gauzy veil suspended on a black string, appeared, billowing in the heat of the fire. A second moon, actually a large glass globe filled with fireflies, rose over the gorge. Rocks started to bleed, and a ‘dead’ sheep was resurrected. It was all fairly transparent, but Elthek ladled on high drama and the drunken Cultists were all suitably impressed.

      ‘What do you think, Pol?’ Kamion asked me. ‘Is that witchcrafty enough for our purposes?’

      ‘Witchcrafty?’ I asked in some amusement.

      ‘I’ve always had this way with words,’ he said modestly.

      ‘You’re the expert in this area, Pol,’ Anrak said. ‘Is Elthek really performing magic out there?’

      ‘No. It’s all pure fakery. It should be enough to convict him, though.’

      ‘My feelings exactly,’ Kamion said. He reached for his hunting horn.

      ‘Aren’t you going to wait for the naked girls?’ Anrak sounded disappointed.

      ‘Ah – no, Anrak. I don’t think so. Let’s not complicate the trial by adding women to the list of the accused.’ He lifted his horn and blew a long, brazen note, calling in Captain Torgun and his men.

      The soldiers were well trained, and the Cultists were far gone in drink, so it wasn’t even a very interesting fight, and the casualties were minimal.